Move over cronut, step aside duffin, the vetsister is here

'Portmanteau bakery' is what some are calling it. 'Frankenstein pastries' according to others. Whatever you want to call it, I want in on it. And so I give you, ladies and gentlemen, the proudly South African vetsister.

It’s probably a good thing Marie-Antoinette lost her head when she did because I’m not quite sure how she might have rephrased her contempt for the poor in light of the current craze for so-called portmanteau bakery. Somehow â€œlet them eat duffins” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

The cronut, however, does have a ring to it. Right in the middle. And it is this little critter, a ‘smash up’ of a croissant and a doughnut created by New York based pastry chef Dominque Ansel, that is to blame for the unassailable rise of combination confectionery. Cronuts, duffins (doughnut meets muffin), townies (tartlet crossed with a brownie), muffles (the result of a sordid affair between a muffin and a waffle); They. Are. Everywhere.

And as a patriotic South African I feel it is my duty to bring my country to the tea table.

C’mon, genius, right? And I don’t just mean the name. I’m talking golden, pillowy vetkoek embracing sticky, cinnamon-laced koeksister in a conjugal visit from heaven that cannot fail to produce the ultimate tea time heir. Or maybe just a bit of a brak with novelty value.

Either way, I smell a tasty gimmick, and if I can’t go down in history as the winner of the Man Booker prize, I should surely be able to weasel my way into Huisgenoot as the creator of the vetsister.

And so, as the powers that be of Starbucks sat contemplating their legal duffin-up, I beat a path to my kitchen to make confectionery magic. Of course, magic needs witnesses hence this text to my friend and close-enough-neighbour, Ashley:

â€œRight, so I am going to be carrying out a deep frying experiment later. I know this sounds somewhat terrifying but if it works you could become the first person in the world to try one.”

To which she, after a contemplative pause, replied: â€œUmmmmmmm… I’m not sure how to respond. But yeah, sure. Be safe.”

That’s sweet, she cares. You can tell from her next text: â€œNeed me to grab anything on my way to you? Fire extinguisher. Burn cream etc.”

I, naturally, was confidence personified as I sifted, mixed and kneaded my vetkoek dough. Yes, I closed the fire-door and opened all the windows – a precaution, you understand – but that turned out to be wholly unnecessary. For after an unctuous little jacuzzi, my voluptuous plaited vetsisters emerged puffed up and golden. A few swift incisions and they were ready to be filled with a fragrant, koeksisterly combination of golden syrup, sticky stem ginger, candied orange peel and ground cinnamon. And some, for a pre-Christmas variation, ‘krismis’ mince.

Ashley’s verdict? Said with a degree of surprise but with a mouth happily full: â€œThis is goooooood.” Between us we devoured three, and Ashley took a doggie bag, so I think I am entitled to say, move over cronut, step aside, duffin, the vetsister is here – and she’s blerrie lekker!